


Satisfaction This Way Comes

by veronamay



Series: Stripper!Jared 'Verse [1]
Category: CW Network RPF, Supernatural RPF
Genre: Abandoned Work - Unfinished and Discontinued, Alley Sex, Alternate Universe - Stripper/Exotic Dancer, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-11-19
Updated: 2006-11-19
Packaged: 2017-11-27 21:07:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,489
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/666498
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/veronamay/pseuds/veronamay
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Poledancing!Jared. Gobsmacked!Jensen. Special guest appearances by Welling, Rosenbaum, Christian Kane, JDM and Mayhem. Alleyfucking. A tiny – TINY – bit of crack. There is also schmoop, but sadly no kitchen sink.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Satisfaction This Way Comes

Jensen knew this was a mistake before they even got through the door. Tommy was too drunk to be discreet anymore, and Mikey was in total bitch mode with a side order of bitter and twisted. And Jensen – Jensen was just trying to make it through the night in one piece.

It was Mike's idea in the first place, which made Jensen wonder about his friend's often-joked-about masochistic tendencies. Nobody in their right mind wanted to organise a stag night for their ex-lover and chose to make it a gay strip club crawl. Jensen had to wonder what Mike thought he was doing. Was he trying to show Tom what he'd be missing out on? Because Jensen could've told him that wasn't going to work. Tom was head over heels for Jamie (or at least the _idea_ of her), and a few pretty dancing boys weren't going to change that. The only thing that could stop the wedding at this point was Mike, and he wasn't talking. Not to Tom, anyway. Jensen knew Mike was torn to shreds every time he saw the diamond on Jamie's finger, but he'd die before he showed it. Which was typical of Mikey, and led Tom to assume everything was just fine, because he and Mike were kind of over anyway, right? Only Jensen thought Mike didn't see it that way. The result was a whole lot of tension in the air, and far too much alcohol for Jensen's liking. He smelled a fight building, and he wanted no part of it.

All this lay heavy on his mind as they entered the club, their fourth – and hopefully final – stop of the night. Tommy was pretty much toasted; they could be sitting in Congress for all he knew or cared. Mikey was so wound up Jensen could almost hear the enamel cracking when he ground his teeth. He tried to distract Mike from whatever passive-aggressive wisecrack he was about to make by signalling a waiter for a round of shots.

As he looked around, taking note of the place for the first time, he caught sight of a guy disappearing backstage, the fading strains of AC/DC following him out of sight. It was just a glimpse – shaggy brown hair, a muscular arm, a flash of bare thigh – but it was enough to make Jensen catch his breath. Maybe this place wasn't so bad after all.

A young blond man leaped on the stage, dressed in the ugliest, shiniest green suit Jensen had ever seen. He looked like the kind of guy you wanted to punch in the face, regardless of whether he'd done anything to deserve it. Jensen's fingers were already itching.

"That tall drink of water came here all the way from Texas just for you, folks. He'll be back later to show us what a _real_ man can do with a pole. And in the meantime, for you folks who like something a little less vanilla, next up is the sublime musical performance of Chris. For those who don't know me, I'm Chad – if you want _anything_ , just scream my name."

He bowed his way off the stage to polite applause, which swelled noticeably when a short, dark-haired guy dressed like Elvis in the '68 comeback special took the stage. He was carrying a guitar and a can of Crisco and a smirk that covered half his face. Jensen looked away in a hurry, wincing. He had a feeling he didn't want to be looking that way again for a while.

Their shots arrived, borne by a sweet young twink who sashayed across the floor and grinned entirely too invitingly in Tom's direction. Jensen toyed with his shot while Tommy grinned back at the waiter and slammed his down, whooping in triumph and crashing the glass down on the table. He hooked the twink around the waist, dragging him in for an enthusiastic kiss. Mike grimaced sourly and knocked back his shot with a sort of resigned grimness that Jensen recognised of old. Mikey was just about at his limit; much more of this and he was going to lose his shit completely, and that would be it for him and Tommy. Jensen ground his own teeth, restraining the urge to knock their heads together. Why did he always have to be the peacemaker? And why the hell didn't they ever listen to him?

Tommy let the waiter go and tried to yell something over the music and the yelling of the crowd (which Jensen was not going to investigate under any circumstances). Jensen shook his head and pointed to his ear, meaning he couldn't hear anything; Tom laughed and got to his feet, weaving his way toward the men's room. Mike watched him go, his expression unguarded for a split second, and Jensen inhaled sharply at the hurt he saw there.

_Just follow him, damn it,_ he willed. _Walk in there, push him into a stall and don't come out until you both admit it's not over. Then we can forget this wedding shit and go back to normal._

Mikey showed no sign of going anywhere; he had one arm slung over the back of his chair, head nodding slightly to the music. But his gaze never left the men's room, and his mouth had a hard twist to it that Jensen didn't like. When five minutes passed and Tom hadn't come back, Mikey growled something under his breath and stood up.

"I'm going to kill him," he said, and Jensen read his lips clearly in the strobe lighting (what the hell was going on over—no, he wasn't going to look). Jensen watched him stalk across the room, fists clenched at his sides, and fought the growl building in his own chest. He didn't want to end the night by patching up their wounds – physical or emotional. Enough was fucking _enough_.

A second later Jensen was following Mike into the men's room, already knowing what he'd find. He wasn't wrong; there was Tom up against the wall with Mike right in his face, and a pretty blond boy with tousled hair and wet pink lips staring wide-eyed at them both.

"He didn't say he was taken!" the kid blurted to Jensen, who shook his head and motioned for him to leave. The kid didn't need a second invitation; he was gone in a flash, leaving Jensen alone with Mike and Tom and Mike's arm hard across Tom's throat, Tom's dick hanging in the breeze.

"I have had it with this shit," Jensen announced to no-one in particular. He walked up to them, put a hand on each of their shoulders and _shoved_ them sideways, pushing them straight into the end stall and holding it shut while he looked for something to lock it with. There was an old-fashioned set of brackets on the door that were meant to hold a bolt; Jensen ripped his belt off one-handed and fed it through the brackets, tying it off securely. Mikey was trying to bang on the door with one hand and strangle Tom with the other, and it sounded like he wasn't doing too well at either. Jensen nodded in satisfaction.

"You're staying in there until you work some shit out," he said over the sound of Mike's cursing. "So I'd stop punching things and start talking if I were you. I'll come back and check on you in an hour or so. I'd hurry up, though – I think this place is closing soon, and I'd hate to leave you here all night."

"Jensen, get your ass back here!" Mikey yelled, but Jensen let the door slam shut behind him with a satisfying bang. He felt kind of shocked as he went back to their table; shocked but good, as if he'd actually done something right for once instead of avoiding the situation. He smiled to himself and signalled the twinky waiter for another beer.

The guy with questionable musical habits had finished up while he was gone; now there was an older guy on stage, stripteasing his way out of a priest outfit to the tune of 'You Can Leave Your Hat On'. Jensen let out a whistle of appreciation – the guy was ripped, he moved well, and all in all it was the best thing he'd seen all night. He was just getting into it when the guy ripped off his short-shorts and the stage plunged into blackness to enthusiastic applause. Jensen added his own clapping as Chad smirked his way back on stage.

"They call 'em classic for a reason, kids," he leered. "And Jeff is definitely a classic, wouldn't you say?" He paused for the catcalls and whistles to die down, then said, "And now, please welcome Jared back to the stage, with his long hard pole for your viewing pleasure!"

Jensen looked up from his beer as all the house lights went down. There was silence for a moment, save for hushed whispers and the clink of glass; then a single spotlight lit the stage, adorned with a steel fireman's pole, and the opening lick of 'Bad To The Bone' poured from every speaker in the place.

The wild-haired guy Jensen had seen earlier reappeared, wearing faded jeans and a battered white stetson. Jensen froze with his drink halfway to his mouth, openly staring. Those jeans were old, and worn, and they had rips in interesting places. Like high up on the inside of one thigh, right near the V of his crotch. And when he turned, speaking to someone backstage, Jensen saw another curving around under his ass, bare skin flashing when he moved in a display that was hotter than outright nakedness would've been. He watched openmouthed in the darkened room as Jared sauntered across the stage and commenced to twine himself around the pole, tossing his head and grinning wickedly as he bent and slid and twisted to the beat. He wrapped a leg around the pole and began to slide up and down, his movements slow and somehow predatory, his eyes promising dirty sex in back alleys as he scanned the crowd. Jensen felt his chest get tight, and wondered why for a second; then he realised he'd forgotten to _breathe_ , and felt like an idiot. He let out a low sigh and took a swallow of beer, shifting uncomfortably in his chair, unable to tear his eyes away.

The house lights came back up a little, and Jensen sat back in his chair. He'd almost forgotten where he was. As he moved, his leg jostled the table, making its impressive collection of empty glasses rattle. The sound caught the attention of the other people within earshot – and Jared. His gaze met Jensen's, from his position suspended upside down, thighs and one hand gripping the pole tightly, his neck and chest arched as if begging to be touched. Jensen flicked his eyes over that broad expanse of smooth bare skin and back to meet amused green cat-eyes – and Jared winked at him, pursing his lips in a kiss.

By the time Jensen recovered enough to react, Jared was upright and stalking to the edge of the stage, tossing his stetson out in a practiced whirl to land squarely in Jensen's lap, spinning away and leaping a full ten feet in the air to straddle the pole, twirling his way back to the ground. A series of disjointed whoops filled the air, drowning out the final bars of the song. Jensen didn't hear any of it; he stared at the hat, completely nonplussed, trying to hide the fact that he had no idea what to do next. Was he meant to keep it, or give it back, or what? Did it mean something, that Jared singled him out, or was that just (wishful thinking) part of the act? Jensen had no fucking clue. He didn't come to strip joints, for crying out loud; this was Mikey's thing, not his. He kept his face down, touching the hat with a fingertip, watching through lowered lashes as Jared finished his performance with a final midair twirl around the pole, leaping off to land on one knee on the stage, head down, chest heaving with exertion. He shook his hair back and threw out a grin as the audience yelled and whistled its approval; then he rose gracefully to his feet and came to the edge of the stage, eyes fixed on Jensen.

''—sneaky underhanded backstabbing motherfucking _sonofabitch_!"

Looked like Mike found his way out of that stall ahead of time.

Jensen snapped out of his fascination with Jared, turning toward the disturbance at his left: Mike, free at last, dragging a drunk and happy-looking Tom behind him, shooting a death glare in Jensen's direction. Jensen grimaced and braced himself.

"Hey, you two," he said, trying for casual. "Get everything worked out?"

"Yeah!" Tom swayed, and grabbed Mike's shoulder for support. "Wedding's off, man. Me 'n Mikey are going to Niagara Falls instead. But you can't come." He smiled and put his chin on Mike's shoulder. "It's gonna be our fake honeymoon."

Jensen stifled the laughter building in his chest and smiled, not meeting Mike's eyes.

"That's great, man. Congratulations. Don't go near the falls in a barrel, okay?"

"...okay," Tom said, frowning in confusion. "I won't. Damn, but this has been, like, the best stag night ever. And now I don't even have to get married!" He hugged Mike to his side and kissed his temple, and Jensen had to fake a cough to cover his amusement. Mike looked like kind of an idiot, standing there with a post-sex glow clear on his face, Tommy clinging to him like a gigantic limpet while he tried to kill Jensen with his eyes. Jensen wished he had a camera.

"Thank you _so much_ for intervening, Jensen," Mike said sweetly through gritted teeth. "I can't tell you how much better I feel having gotten everything out in the open. Especially the part where Tom was so overwhelmed he _threw up_."

"Whatever it takes to help out a friend, Mikey," Jensen said in all seriousness. "It worked, didn't it?"

Mike kept staring daggers at him for a few more seconds, but Jensen could already see him softening. He unbent enough to sling an arm around Tom's waist when Tom's knees buckled unexpectedly.

"It worked," he agreed grudgingly. "But I am _not happy_ with you, Jensen. There will be payback, you can count on that."

"When I least expect it, I'm sure." Jensen waved a hand. "Worth it, dude. So, now what?"

"Now I'm taking Tommy home and we're going to fuck," Mike informed him.

"A lot," Tom interjected, and nuzzled the spot underneath Mike's ear.

"So you'll have to entertain yourself for the rest of the night. And probably tomorrow, too." Mike glanced toward the stage. "Something tells me you won't have any trouble in that department. Have fun, asshole."

He grinned, teeth flashing, and pulled Tom along with him as he headed for the exit. Jensen returned Tom's handflappy wave with a toast of his beer, then turned back to find Jared standing on the other side of the table. His brain instantly went numb.

"Er," Jensen said. "Hi."

"Hi." Jared had his hands in the back pocket of those indecent jeans; he took them out and turned a chair around, straddling it backward. A smile played over his lips. "I think you have something that belongs to me."

Jensen blinked, so distracted by all that smooth bare skin within touching distance, it took a second for Jared's words to sink in.

"Oh," he said. He looked at the hat in his lap. "Right. Here. Sorry." He picked it up and handed it over, cursing when he fumbled and nearly dropped it. "Sorry," he said again, and reached for his glass. His mouth was dry.

Jared grinned and took the hat, his fingers brushing against Jensen's on the brim. He parked it on his head and pushed it back with one finger, his eyebrow quirking.

"Thanks, man." He leaned in, eyes glinting. "But I wasn't talkin' about the hat."

Jensen's beer slipped out of his hand, the glass shattering on the floor. He didn't even flinch.

"Unh," he managed, wondering if he'd heard right. "I – what?"

Jared straightened up and flicked a look toward the exit sign to the side of the stage. Sharp, interested green eyes came back to Jensen, sweeping over him from head to foot; the tousled head tilted in silent query. _Want to?_

Jensen was out of his seat and halfway across the floor before he was aware of moving.

There was a fire door next to the stage; he hesitated, cautious of an alarm, but Jared's arm came around him from behind and shoved the door open, his other hand urging Jensen through. They stumbled out into a narrow alley, nothing but brick wall and a couple of dumpsters and faint light filtering in from a streetlight at the end of the block. It was pretty tacky; the tackiest place Jensen had ever been, in fact, but that thought only lasted a second. Jared's hand was still on his back, and now it slid up to his neck as he swung Jensen around and pinned him against the wall. He stepped in close, their legs interlacing, his other hand resting low on Jensen's hip.

"I don't do this," Jensen blurted suddenly, because it was the truth. He was almost a monk – too shy, too self-conscious, plus he'd been burned a few times. He'd thought this sort of thing was years behind him.

Jared grinned at him, lazy and slow, taking the hat off and throwing over his shoulder somewhere. His hair fell into his eyes, and Jensen wanted to reach up and stroke it away.

"I'm flattered," Jared drawled, leaning in. "Let me know if you need any pointers, yeah?"

He laid the lightest of butterfly kisses on Jensen's lips and hovered there, waiting. The words poured over Jensen like warm honey, and just like that, it was easy. He closed his eyes, opened his mouth and let his body say _yes_.

Jared obviously knew a green light when he felt it; he crowded Jensen against the wall, his mouth coming down hard, angling his head to get his tongue deep in Jensen's mouth. Jensen moaned under the onslaught. He hadn't been kissed like this in so long; he actually felt dizzy, unsure of his footing. He opened up wide, letting Jared run the show, sliding one hand into that gorgeous tangled mop of hair and trailing the other down Jared's back, resting on the dip of his spine. He pressed in there, urging Jared in closer still, parting his legs for a better fit. Jared pulled away and inhaled sharply, humping against Jensen's hip. Jensen opened his eyes, wanting to see, and found Jared gazing right at him, bottom lip caught between his teeth.

Jensen couldn't look away. He watched Jared's pupils dilate, felt them both getting hard, and he clenched his hand in Jared's hair, watching his eyelids flutter in reaction.

"What am I doing?" he whispered, half to himself.

"Getting laid," Jared whispered back, and took his mouth again.

Jared kissed like the world was ending; like Jensen was his oxygen; like they only had one chance at this and he wanted to get it right. Jensen wasn't used to being this submissive, but he found he liked it, liked Jared all over him, liked the tight hold and the cage he made of his body as if Jensen were going to try and escape. He rubbed himself against Jared's chest, wrapped a leg around his hip, his hand slipping down to finger the rip in those evil, evil jeans, learning the curve of Jared's ass. Jared made a quiet sound in his throat and pushed into Jensen's hand, rocking back, one hand coming down to work on button and zipper until the denim was loose around his hips.

"Go on," he said into Jensen's ear when he hesitated. "Do it. I want it."

Jensen's hips snapped forward involuntarily, and his leg fell back to the ground. He felt Jared smile against his neck; then Jared was reaching for his hand and bringing it up to his mouth, drawing two fingers in and slicking them with spit, and Jensen found himself hypnotised by the way Jared looked when he sucked. Focused, and intent, and _satisfied_ , and God but that was giving Jensen the best ideas, making him so hard it was starting to hurt. Then Jared let his fingers slide free, and Jensen took the hint and nudged soft denim out of the way with the heel of his hand, seeking and finding the – God, already relaxing – opening he was after. Two fingers slid in with barely a hitch, and he didn't care if that made Jared a slut because this? This was fucking hot, and Jared was already twisting back onto his hand and asking for more, harder, so Jensen told his morals to shut the fuck up already and did his best to obey. He played guitar; his hands were flexible, and he knew what he was looking for. He scissored and crooked his fingers, finding Jared's prostate and rubbing across it with every stroke, humping against Jared's hip in counterpoint. Jared moaned and dragged him in for a kiss, squeezing his thighs together, trapping Jensen's hand between them. He scrabbled at his jeans, trying to shove them down. Jensen helped with his free hand, getting them down to Jared's knees, and gravity took care of the rest.

As soon as the denim hit the ground, Jared turned them around until his back was against the wall. Jensen barely knew which way was up; he went with it, because anything that made Jared happy at this point was just fine with him. He mirrored Jared's earlier position, crowding in close, twisting his fingers deep in Jared's ass and sucking Jared's tongue into his mouth in return. Jared broke the kiss, gasping for air.

"Fuck?" he said, and Jensen looked at him, confused. Jared grinned at him and kissed him again, deep and quick. "Do you fuck?"

"I – yeah," Jensen said, because even if he didn't, Jared would be able to convince him. But he did, and oh, he wanted to, so – _hell_ yeah. "You want—"

"I want," Jared agreed, and reached back to pull Jensen's hand away. In the same motion he turned, facing the wall, spreading his hands on the rough brick. "Now. There's a rubber and lube in my jeans."

There was no reason for that to sound so hot, but it did. Jensen fumbled his own jeans open one-handed while he searched Jared's pockets, and a minute later he was slicked and protected and ready, and Jared was pushing back against him while he eased carefully inside. It was tight, the tightest place Jensen's cock had been in a while, and Jensen thrust, looking for friction and getting it, hitting Jared's prostate and making them both moan. He put one hand on the wall and the other on Jared's cock, touching it for the first time, and began to fuck and pull in a single rhythm. Jared angled back, lengthening his spine and leaning his forearms on the wall, giving Jensen more room to get deeper inside. Jensen took it, stroking as deep as he could, resting his forehead on Jared's back and mouthing kisses across his sweaty skin. Jared began to make stifled noises, his hips jerking with every thrust; then he threw his head back and cried out, and Jensen bent his knees and fucked in _hard_ , milking Jared's cock, feeling the warm splatter of come on his hand. Jared sagged against the wall, panting, visible aftershocks running through his body. Jensen held his hips still and went on fucking, feeling the tingle begin in the small of his back, his balls drawing up tight and hard. Then Jared reached back and _held himself open_ for him, and that was it, Jensen was gone: his hips stuttered and lost the rhythm, driving in short choppy strokes as his orgasm ripped through him. He collapsed against Jared's broad back for a second, breathing deep, willing his legs to hold him up.

When he slid out, Jared grunted, a displeased little sound. Jensen got rid of the condom and stood there, jeans still undone, wondering what happened next. Jared slid along the wall until they were face to face again, and smiled at him.

"You look like you're expecting a punch or somethin'," he said, and held out one arm. "C'mere."

Jensen smothered a sigh of relief and went, stepping into Jared's hold and, well - _cuddling_ , was the only word that came to mind. He thought they must look ridiculous: two guys up against a wall, one naked with his jeans around his ankles, the other looking like a rabbit gone tharn; and then he figured there was no-one to see, so why should he be bothered? After that, it was easy to turn his head into Jared's neck and wrap an arm around his back, and just stay there.

"So, uh," Jared said after a while, his breath ruffling Jensen's hair. "Now what?"

"What do you mean?" Jensen pulled back to look at him, and caught an expression of uncertainty on Jared's face.

"I mean—" Jared looked skyward and exhaled, then met Jensen's eyes again with a crooked smile. "I don't want to just say thanks, put my pants back on and say see ya. You wanna maybe – I don't know, get a cup of coffee or somethin'?"

Jensen stared at him for so long Jared's smile started to fade, and he looked away. His arms fell from around Jensen's waist.

"Guess not," he mumbled. "Never mind." He shifted away, bending down to pull his jeans back on. Jensen, still trying to get his head around the idea of more – more of the two of them, more of that smile and those eyes, and maybe learning what lay behind them – finally caught on to what Jared was thinking.

"Hey, whoa, hold on," he said, and put a hand on Jared's chest. "Okay, the first thing you need to know about me? I'm kind of slow on the uptake." He smiled and slid his hand up to Jared's neck. "Second thing is, I like my coffee black."

Jared stared back at him for a split second; then he smiled wide, pulled Jensen in for a kiss, then pointed at him.

"Stay right there. I gotta go put a shirt on, and then I'm taking you to the best all-night coffee shop in LA."

He disappeared back into the club, long legs in clinging denim giving Jensen ideas. He leaned against the wall and tapped out a cigarette, and hoped the coffee was strong.

END


End file.
